


red-letter day

by bubbleteabunny



Series: the best job at MACUSA [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:44:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleteabunny/pseuds/bubbleteabunny
Summary: Percival make good on that promise from last time.





	red-letter day

A couple of weeks go by, and… nothing.

Work with Mr. Graves has remained professional since the incident in his office, almost as if it hadn’t happened at all. You come into the office in the mornings to go over the schedule for the day, then he dismisses you and only calls upon you when you’re needed—which isn’t very often, oddly enough. Before… well, _that,_ he’d have you doing tasks for him several times a day, things that he wanted you to take care of while he was busy in meetings or out in the field with other Aurors. But the number of times he’s asked after you has dwindled, slowly and slowly until you only speak to him in the mornings, and after that you’re stuck in your office with your own work. He doesn’t even ask you to fetch him coffee!

You would give him the benefit of the doubt and say perhaps his own obligations have calmed down so he doesn’t need to call on you as often, but you’re his _secretary._ You know his entire schedule and you _know_ he’s still caught in a flurry of work. Had he gotten someone else to do it? Was he doing it himself? You don’t think there’s enough time in a day for Mr. Graves to do all the little tasks that could easily be passed on to you. But if he was getting someone else to do it… _oh no._ If that were the case, the higher-ups might think there was a problem with you and you’d promptly be removed from the position. Would Mr. Graves defend you? Right now, you don’t know if he would.

Is he regretting what happened? It seems like it. He’s been of few words in your presence (what little of it he actually requests). You’ve never brought it up since, well, it’s not your place to. The relationship was meant to be strictly professional, and who are you to assume it would be anything else? Maybe it was just a one-time thing—Mr. Graves needed the stress relief, and you agreed because it is your job to help him. Honestly, you’d been hoping he’d require that form of assistance again because hell, you enjoyed it just as much as he seemed to (judging by those lovely groans that escaped his lips that you can still vividly hear in your mind).

At one point you would’ve wondered whether or not you should be disappointed about the whole ordeal. But now you’re very sure that yes, you’re disappointed. Was your attraction to your boss a mistake? If it didn’t exist, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Mr. Graves had noticed it and, well, he capitalized on it. Which makes you sick to think about because you really didn’t take him for that kind of man—although what good does that do, seeing as he did have you go down on him _in his office._

So… why don’t you hate him?

You know the answer to that, but you don’t really want to acknowledge it.

There’s a part of you, deep deep down, that had _liked_ it—liked the commanding tone and the riskiness of the situation. You liked those lithe fingers tangling themselves in your hair and pushing you down farther than you could take. Because the feel of your throat burning and your eyes watering was incredible. And you want more of it.

These thoughts plague you as you walk into work this morning, a bright Monday signaling the beginning of the third week of this predicament. When you arrive on your floor, you make a beeline for Mr. Graves’s office. Once you find yourself in front of the door, you set a hand on the knob and go to twist it, but it doesn’t give way.

You furrow your eyebrows as you try again, but it doesn’t budge. Mr. Graves never accidentally forgets to unlock the door. You glance down at your watch—he should be here already.

“He’s in a meeting.” The voice of Simon, another employee on this floor, grabs your attention.

Your hand drops from the doorknob as you look over at Simon, head tilted in question. “Oh…” you trail off, remaining in your spot as you start to flip through your planner. “Thanks, Simon.”

Simon nods before he’s on his way, continuing down the hall. You don’t take the time to watch him leave, You’re too busy finding the page for this week. When you get to it, you’re shocked to see you had no meetings entered for this morning. You close the planner and sigh deeply as you look up again, staring at the white office door. You hadn’t been told of this meeting. It’s the first time anything like this has happened. Maybe— _hopefully_ —it’s an emergency meeting. The last thing you want to be accused of is slacking off, especially because you’ve been nothing but hardworking since you’d gotten this position.

Your office door is already wide open, and Ruby glances up from her work as you walk inside.

“Hey,” she starts, leaning back in her chair, “I saw you walk past not even ten minutes ago. Really didn’t take that much time in Mr. Graves’s office today?”

You sigh as you toss the planner on the far corner of your desk before plopping down in your own chair and scooting forward, prepared to start on your own paperwork. “He has a meeting,” you reply curtly, never meeting your colleague’s gaze.

Ruby doesn’t reply right away, settling for studying your facial features as you open a folder and scan the contents inside. She raises a brow. “If you stare any harder you might burn a hole through that thing,” she tries to joke, but when you don’t react, she frowns. “I take it this meeting wasn’t one you’d had written down.”

You still don’t say anything, but Ruby knows she’s right. You’re always on top of your work, something you’d always been proud of, and when things don’t go your way, well, it’s difficult for you to deal with. And she’s certainly no stranger to the fact you’ve been in the office more often, not being called upon as often by Mr. Graves as you used to be. She doesn’t know why, though. Everyone knows Mr. Graves has a lot on his plate yet these last couple of weeks he hadn’t needed you. Though she’s sure she and you are the only ones to notice it—you because you’re the one to receive that extra workload he has no time for (usually), and her because she’s your friend and colleague. So you’re not the only suspicious soul in this building wondering why Mr. Graves isn’t utilizing your capabilities as much anymore.

Ruby sighs lightly. “Maybe it was an emergency meeting. You know how they are,” she tries to console you.

You don’t fail to catch the empathetic tone in her voice, and you smile slightly as you glance at her, in silent thanks. “Maybe.”

This is the point in time where you consider your situation to be on a gentle downward slope, slowly moving until eventually you’re at the bottom, having reached the end where you are no longer an assistant to Mr. Graves. But an hour later, you discover your situation had in fact been teetering on the edge of a cliff overlooking a monumental drop to a bleak nothingness—and it’s just fallen over.

A note flutters in to your office and settles on your desk. You glance up at it in confusion just as the paper bird unfolds itself. Even before you pick it up to read you can see the end signed with the lone letter G. He’s finally calling you to his office. The note is short and concise— _my office_ —and something inside you sparks, though it’s a reaction you quickly squash down. He can’t possibly be planning to make good on his promise from last time. It just wouldn’t make any sense in this context, seeing as he hadn’t needed much of your help for a while now. And if he was calling you over for that, you think you might just get angry because why ignore you only to engage in something so intimate right after?

You don’t dwell on these questions, since you really do need to get over there. This one slip-up this morning that might not even be entirely your fault is no reason for you to start slacking.

Ruby looks up as you walk out the door without a word. She doesn’t bother asking where you’re going—the briskness with which you left means Mr. Graves has called you. You’re only ever in a rush when it’s to attend to him. About time, she thinks as she goes back to her paperwork.

This time the doorknob turns easily in your grip and you enter Mr. Graves’s office quietly. You close the door and walk up to his desk, standing before it, hands clutched nervously as you wait for him to speak. He doesn’t look up right away, eyes intently reading the paper in front of him, but when he finally slides his gaze up to you, your breath is stolen from you—and you don’t mean that in a good way.

His stare is hard and all at once that familiar feeling of intimidation washes over you, but it’s not one that causes heat to pool between your legs. It causes your chest to tighten almost painfully and you avoid eye contact, because you’re, quite frankly, scared. You’d always been a good secretary, at least you like to think so. Never had his anger been directed at you—well, except now. Because he’s angry and he’s looking straight at you.

“The meeting this morning caught me by surprise, [Name],” Mr. Graves starts, and you close your eyes, teeth gritting as you now become angry at yourself with the mistake. So it hadn’t been an emergency, last-minute conference, like you’d been hoping. “I had to hand the fieldwork for today off to somebody else because it had been mandatory I attend.”

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” you stammer. “I was never told—”

“But you didn’t think to double check?”

You stop short, eyes still on the ground as you shake your head glumly. “No, sir.”

Percival takes a deep breath as he sits back against his chair, surveying you. Your shoulders are hunched and you’re frowning. When he sees you bite your lip, he can tell you’re fighting back tears. His gaze softens, though you don’t notice it because you’re not looking. Perhaps he’d been too harsh? After all, he hadn’t asked for your help in several days yet you’d continued doing your job as well as you were able. This is the first blunder you had, and considering how long you’ve been in this position, that’s quite the feat.

But because he’s stubborn, he doesn’t relent.

“Don’t let it happen again,” he states simply, which causes you to cautiously look up at him, eyes seemingly glimmering with gratefulness at the fact he’s giving you another chance. It’s not quite forgiveness, but it’s something.

You nod quickly. “I won’t make a mistake like that again, Mr. Graves.”

Percival grits his teeth, trying to ignore the way his cock twitches when his name leaves your lips. “You’re dismissed,” he forces out.

You nod again before swiftly exiting, leaving him alone in his office with a gradually hardening cock. Great.

———

It’s like all the work you hadn’t done for Mr. Graves those past couple of weeks has suddenly been dropped onto you, all at once, with no mercy.

You went from being ahead with your own paperwork to being so unbelievably behind that people might think you were Clark from two floors down because Merlin knows he’s got years worth of paperwork backed up because—well, what does he do, when he’s not doing work? Sleep?

Ruby, being the incredible friend that she is, offered to take some of your work to do herself, so you wouldn’t have so much waiting for you whenever you finally got the chance to sit down at your desk for longer than an hour.

 _“Think of it as a way to repay you after you helped me out when I was sick,”_ she had told you, kind smile on her face as she grabbed a stack of papers off your desk you’d rather cut in half so you can divide it between the two of you, because you really don’t want her doing so much of the work that’s meant for you. But you know she wouldn’t let you do that. And you also know that she would be doing this anyway, whether or not as compensation for doing the same for her when she was out sick, since she’s not just a colleague but a close friend. You wonder how you got so lucky to work with someone like her.

Despite Ruby doing what she could to ease the burden, it wasn’t enough. Mr. Graves had you doing job after job, running from floor to floor to talk to this person and then that person. It was maddening to finally return to your desk only to see the paperwork has just increased. You’d barely be able to make a dent in it before another paper bird makes its way to you—it settles on top of the stack of folders, as if to taunt you. You no longer read the notes because you know it’s Mr. Graves. You only force yourself up out of your seat, walking over to his office, feeling more and more fatigued each trip. But you refuse to complain. You’re not going to get sloppy, no matter how much he has for you. You’re determined to prove yourself an exemplary assistant, who’s on top of everything (except maybe your sanity because you don’t recall the last time you got more than four hours of sleep—but that takes a backseat to your other obligations).

Still, you can’t help but wonder why this is happening—why there had been a few weeks of nothing and now it’s been weeks of everything. Was Mr. Graves even aware that he was doing this? Surely. He can’t have possibly gone from not asking after you at all to suddenly handing you a million and one different tasks. Hell, by now, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had you attend his own meetings in his stead.

Then one day it becomes too much. You fall asleep at your desk without meaning to, pen gripped loosely in your hand and head resting on top of the paper you’d been reading. You only wake up because another paper bird flies in and settles on your desk. Though instead of unfolding right away, it hops its way to right in front of your face, paper beak poking at your nose. You scrunch your nose in response as you finally open your eyes, and the bird pokes you once more for good measure before unfolding. Your eyes lazily scan the neat handwriting which reads “Office please” before you sigh and force yourself to stand, silently leaving your office to walk over to your boss’s.

When you’re there, you wait quietly for whatever Mr. Graves has for you, but you’re confident you don’t look as alert. You certainly don’t feel like it.

Percival can practically feel the stress oozing off you right now. Your eyes are screaming with fatigue and your posture is lazier. He doesn’t fault you for it though—you’ve been busy.

He supposes he should feel bad for dumping all that work onto you, and a small part of him does, but for the most part he doesn’t feel anything. He’s been pushing you, yes, but he’s had reason. He wants to see how determined you are, to see how much is _too much_ for you, yet you haven’t collapsed, and though you’re getting to that point, he doubts you’ll allow yourself to fully give in to that stress. Is there a point where it’s all too much for you?

He’s very aware of the fact he’d said next to nothing to you for a good few weeks before suddenly deciding to give you any task he received that could be passed on to you instead. But he’s pushing so hard because he wants to see how dedicated you are to pleasing him. This is more in the professional sense, but it doesn’t make it any less gratifying. The control he has over you stretches so far, and it’s exceedingly satisfying.

Okay, so maybe he really doesn’t feel bad at all for being the cause of your seemingly ungodly amounts of stress.

But in his defense, he _had_ promised before that he’d help you when the need arose.

“You look tired,” Percival begins, sitting up straight.

As if on cue, you take a deep breath. “I am, sir.”

“How’s the paperwork?”

You think back to the stack of folders you’d left on your desk and nearly want to cry when you speculate there most certainly could have been more dropped off in the short time you’ve spent in here. “Slow.”

Percival purses his lips. “You’ve been a very busy woman, [Name].”

 _And who’s the cause of that?_ you want to ask, but you bite your tongue. Your patience may be wearing thin as a result of your fatigue but you refuse to give in like that. “Work is work,” you state nonchalantly, shrugging as if to say It’s no big deal.

Percival smiles slightly at the action. “Believe it or not, I didn’t call you here because I had another job for you.” You tilt your head in confusion and he continues. “I wanted to… commend you, for your hard work. You’ve done very well despite how much I’ve been sending you around.”

You smile tiredly. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” And you really do. You’re glad it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“And I want to apologize for all the stress I’m sure I’ve caused you,” Percival states. “I haven’t exactly been easy.”

“I can’t expect to be a busy man’s assistant and not be busy myself,” you joke lightly, and Percival chuckles.

“Still,” he goes on, “since it was my doing, it only makes sense I help… relieve you, of some of it.”

Through your weariness, you can still pick up on the implications of Mr. Graves’s statement. When you hear the lock on the door click into place behind you, your suspicions are confirmed. You muster the strength to stand up straighter, and you release a breath you’re surprised to find is shaky as you wait in eager anticipation.

Percival’s gaze never strays from yours as he stands and walks around the desk and over to you. You have to tilt your head back to look him in the eyes as he gets closer. When he’s right in front of you, his eyes slide down to survey your form, clad in the simple dark blue dress you’d worn today.

“I distinctly remembering promising to, after all…” he trails off. He brings his hands up to set them on your waist, and you bite your lip to keep down a gasp. His grip is firm, and you shiver as his hands slide down along the curve of your waist and then your hips, before pulling you against his crotch. That’s when you can’t contain your small gasp of surprise—he’s already hardening and you hadn’t even done anything.

“M-Mr. Graves…?” you question uneasily. Had he been wanting this as much as you have?

Percival closes his eyes and tries to collect himself when you say his name like that—so quietly, so curiously—and his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. You have no idea what you do to him.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he tells you, voice practically hoarse, as he opens his eyes to look down at your own large [eye color] ones.

It all almost feels like a dream to you. This is too good to be true, surely. After going so long without thinking anything like this would happen again, it’s here once more, completely out of the blue. So maybe the stress had been worth it.

Before you even realize what you’re saying, you pipe up: “Then show me.”

Percival’s eyes are dark and lust-blown and you don’t have long to process that before his lips are on yours in a searing kiss. Somehow his hold on your hips tightens even further, to the point you’re sure there will be bruises, and you disconnect your lips briefly as you let out a quiet moan at the pressure. But Percival is quick to recapture your lips as he backs you into his desk. Your hands quickly go to grip his biceps to maintain your balance, fingernails digging into the fabric of his button-up, creating wrinkles to be worried about later.

You feel Percival’s hands slide down to just below your ass, pushing forward slightly to get you to sit on the edge of his desk. When you’ve done so, he starts to push up the hem of your dress, rough hands sliding up the warm skin of your thighs. His lips leave yours to trail along your jaw, and you whimper, eyes clenched shut as you bend your head back to give him more room.

“You know why I went so long not asking you for anything?” Percival questions lowly, hot breath fanning over your neck as he continues his exploration of the smooth expanse. “It’s because of this, [Name].” He nips the soft skin below your ear to emphasize his point, and you gasp quietly. “Ever since you got down on your knees for me and sucked my cock I’ve wanted to bend you over my desk.”

The wetness between your legs is hard to deny at hearing Percival’s confession. So he had been wanting this just as much as you had. You’d smile at the thought of that if you weren’t so damn aroused right now.

“And I’ve given you so much work lately because I like to see how hard you’ll work to please me.” Percival pulls away to study your hazy eyes, a combination of fatigue and arousal, and he pushes you down to scoot back and lay down on the desk, ass just at the edge. He stares down at you, practically mesmerized. Your legs fall open easily, eagerly awaiting for whatever he wants to do to you. His hands disappear beneath your dress to find the band of your silk knickers, which he’s quick to slide off you. You lift your hips to aid him, and once they’re off, he drops them unceremoniously to the ground.

You bite your lip at being so exposed, even though your nether regions aren’t yet actually visible to Percival. That changes, however, when he starts to bunch up the fabric of your dress so that it rests above your stomach. The cool air assaults your already wet pussy, and the muscles clench in response, which garners a moan from Percival as he watches. His eyes slide up to yours as he brings a hand up to the most intimate part of your body, fingers sliding easily along your slit due to your wetness. That’s when you break the stare, eyes sliding shut as you moan, chest heaving as you try to take deep, steady breaths. You whimper when he circles your clit, and you want to squeeze your legs shut, but because he’s standing between them, you’re unable to.

Percival’s eyes remain glued to your face, studying the way it contorts in pleasure. He slowly inserts a finger into you, and your breath hitches. You whimper quietly as he slides a finger in, pumping slowly and feeling it get covered in your arousal. He adds a second finger not long after, though he doesn’t keep this up for long before he pulls away.

Your eyes open and you’re frowning slightly, the coil that had been tightening at the pit of your stomach slowly coming undone. You’re breathing heavily, and don’t even need to voice your dismay. The smirk on Percival’s face is evidence that he knows what you’re thinking.

“Patience..” he tells you, hooking your legs over his shoulders and bending down to bring his face closer to your pussy. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long while now, and I plan to make the most of it.”

You’re transfixed upon the sight before you. His eyes slide down to concentrate on your sex, and when you feel him lick his way up your slit, you can no longer keep your own eyes open to watch. They slide closed as you focus on the immense pleasure at your center, at the pressure of his tongue as it slides along your outer lips but never quite delves past them. He circles your clit and your hips buck at the pleasure that almost feels like too much yet not enough to push you over the edge. The moan that escapes you when his tongue finally slides into you is louder than you’d expected and your eyes open in surprise as you immediately look down at Percival. He’s already looking up at you, eyes warning Not too loud lest the two of you get caught. He concentrates on his task once more and you stare up at the ceiling, feeling the blood rush to your head.

The coil has begun to tighten again, and you want to grab at Percival’s hair to keep his face against your pussy because you’re so close, but you don’t want to mess up his hair, so you scramble for any sort of purchase on the desk, but come up with none. Your breaths have started to quicken, and before you can cum, Percival pulls away. This time you’re verbal in your agitation, whining quietly at the feeling of emptiness at your core.

Percival can’t help the chuckle that escapes him at seeing you so wet and needy. He stands up straight, your legs still resting against his shoulders. He comfortingly rubs the skin of your ankle and turns his head slightly to lay a light kiss on it. “Bend over the desk for me. Please.”

The addition of please at the end is cheeky, a claim further supported by the smirk Percival wears. You slide your legs from his shoulders and shakily stand, his hands going to your waist to support you as you turn around and bend over, dress still bunched up, leaving your ass exposed.

Percival groans quietly, hand kneading the flesh of your ass, and you whimper at the sensation. He pulls away a moment to free himself from the confines of his pants, and he sighs quietly at the relief he feels. He hadn’t noticed the growing tightness, too distracted by your little noises of pleasure. He grips your hips to angle you properly, which leaves you basically tiptoeing. He guides himself to your entrance, the head of his cock teasing at your pussy but not pushing in.

You bite your lip so hard you’re surprised you don’t taste blood. When his cock finally starts to slide in, you release your lip and let out a drawn out moan, so overwhelmed at the feeling of being filled so fully. The pressure is slightly uncomfortable at first, but as Percival allows you to adjust to his size, it starts to feel enjoyable. And when he starts to pull out just to push back in, hips flush against yours, it starts to feel incredible.

Percival’s thrusts increase in pace, his hands gripping onto your hips to pull you back against him with each thrust forward. He grunts at how tight you feel around him, how easily he slides in and out of you because of your wetness. Your moans and whimpers and mewls are music to his ears.

This time the coil is _so impossibly tight_ there’s no way Percival can keep you from cumming because if he does, you feel like you might go insane. Your moaning has gotten a little louder as a result of how close you are yet you don’t really notice. Percival does, but he also feels your pussy clenching around him, another signal that you’re close to climax. Thankfully, he doesn’t slow down in his pace, doesn’t pull away or anything. His thrusts are hard and unrelenting and pretty soon you can’t hold on anymore. Quickly you bring a hand up to your mouth to bite down on, but your release is so strong you still moan loudly, eyes shut and tears gathering at the corners. You’re seeing white behind your eyelids and you’re vaguely aware of your thighs quivering as you cum. 

Percival has to pause in his thrusts momentarily because you clench so tightly around him, and he groans at the sensation, but he’s quick to continue pushing in and out of you, prolonging your orgasm and subsequently pushing himself closer to his.

You whimper with each thrust, feeling sensitive yet hungry for more. You turn your head to rest your warm cheek against the cool wood of the desk, and in your peripherals you see the immense concentration and pleasure manifesting on Percival’s face. Your eyes slide closed and you bite your lip, feeling a second orgasm already approaching. You feel too tired to even entertain the thought of another release, but you don’t have much of a choice in the matter because it’s already here.

You squeal as you cum again, thighs shaking and muscles spasming. Percival is right on the edge now, and his thrusts have started to stutter and become erratic as he finds himself trying to delay his own orgasm. But he knows he can’t hold on any longer, and so do you, for you reach a hand back to shove at his arm, a signal for him to let go and pull out. He follows your silent instruction, and you weakly hoist yourself up then turn around before practically falling to your knees because of how weak your legs are. You bring a hand up to his cock and pump him, and he moans lowly, eyes sliding closed.

You engulf the head of his cock with your mouth just as he climaxes, and you eagerly swallow down his cum. The taste is familiar. And missed.

When you pull away, your breathe heavily, trying to calm yourself down. Percival does the same, though he doesn’t take as long. He’s not the one who’d just cum twice, an exertion of energy you have to deal with now on top of your lack of sleep. If you thought you’d be able to sleep easily before, you sure as hell will be able to now.

Percival helps you stand, hand on your waist to stabilize you. Your legs feel like jelly. When you feel comfortable standing, he bends down to pick up your knickers, which he hands to you. He backs up a few steps to give you room as you slide them on, careful not to fall over, and readjust your dress. It’s wrinkled now, unlike how it had been when you came in to Percival’s office, but his button-up is too, so you suppose you’re even.

“I trust you feel relieved?” Percival questions with a small smirk as he tucks himself away and zips up his pants.

You smile slightly. “Incredibly.”

“Good. Then consider us even.” Though as he says this, Percival’s eyes are teasing, as though to say this is far from the last time the two of you will share an encounter of this sort.

He leads you to the office door which he unlocks before pulling it open. “I’ll try not to have you doing so many tasks anymore,” he informs you. “You have your own work and I don’t have the right to pull you away from it.”

You shake your head, smiling understandingly. “Don’t worry about it. Your needs are my priority, sir.” You revert back to your professional demeanor, but don’t even try to hide the implications of your statement.

Percival catches on to it easily. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’d rather you hold me against you, but that works too,” you can’t help but reply cheekily, crooked grin on your face. Okay, it’s official. You’re thoroughly fucked out—and it’s not even lunchtime.

Percival smirks. “You’re dismissed, [Name].”

When you return to your office, Ruby looks up. “You were gone a while,” she remarks. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” you start, smiling briefly at her before you walk over to your desk. “Everything is fine.” You try to ignore the way your thighs quiver as you sit down, and you do your best to keep your facial expressions neutral even as your core throbs painfully. You adjust your position slightly until you’re some semblance of comfortable—enough for you to return to your work.

The stack of folders on your desk seems to have remained the same size, thankfully. And Ruby seems to be unconvinced by your halfhearted assurance, but she leaves it be. She is quite the super sleuth, however, so she probably has her suspicions which you have no doubt are correct, but you’ll let her wonder for now.


End file.
